


Trust

by Zhie



Series: Bunniverse [68]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bunniverse, Gen, Nevrast, Secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 13:39:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11807079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zhie/pseuds/Zhie
Summary: Building Gondolin was an ordeal, but there was a harder task at hand for those who remained in Nevrast.





	Trust

The nights were almost as humid as the days in Vinyamar, but night brought a cooling breeze that was a blessing to the constant humidity, and the starlight was not as stifling as the glare of the sun. Evening brought one elf out of doors to sit by the fountain in the courtyard. It was all rather plain, but then, there had not been much direction from the self-appointed leader. 

There was even less when he was nowhere to be found.

“Ah, Captain, my Captain! You are yet awake!” 

Ecthelion peered over the cover of the well-worn novel he held, for he had been resting on his back, reading for the eighteenth time one of the few books that was available in the city. “Where is Galdor?” he asked firmly.

“Galdor…” Turgon circled the fountain and came back around to where Ecthelion was still resting on the stone ledge. “How are the stores looking for autumn? I want to be sure we have enough venison smoked in case there is frost and they wander to higher ground.”

“Turgon.” Ecthelion sat up and used his thumb to hold his place in the book. “Galdor.”

“Hmm?” Turgon paused to stoop down by the fountain and wash his face from his latest journey out of Nevrast. “Oh, I meant to let you know about an idea I had for a festival. It was something Idril and I were both brainstorming. We were thinking of a mid-summer event of some sort. Not this year, of course, we would need time to plan. What do you think?”

“I have no opinion. I know,” said Ecthelion as he crossed his arms over his chest, one hand still holding the book. “We can ask Galdor what he thinks.”

Turgon flicked the excess water from his fingertips. “Not right now we cannot,” he said under his breath.

Ecthelion pressed on now that he had some acknowledgement over their missing companion. “Alright, well, perhaps we should ask Rog, then.” He narrowed his eyes. “Or should we ask Penlodh?”

Very slowly, Turgon approached and slid the book away from Ecthelion. He fanned through it to get a glimpse at the content and handed it back, open to the page that Ecthelion had marked. “Ecthelion, you trust me, do you not?”

“Of course I trust you,” responded Ecthelion almost instantly.

“Of course. You did not so much as flinch when I took your book. Do you know why?” prodded Turgon.

“Because I knew you were going to give it back because you hate reading fiction,” reasoned Ecthelion as he fell into step beside the king when Turgon began to stroll down a dirt path.

“It is because you trust me.” Turgon slid his hands into his pockets and turned his face upwards to look at the stars, the path his feet trod well-memorized in his mind. “Rest assured, Galdor – and Rog, and Penlodh, and all of the others – are under the same stars, and in a place much safer.”

“Where?” pressed Ecthelion as he looked up, for Turgon was quite tall despite Ecthelion being no runt. For years, the secret project had gone on. Turgon would be in Nevrast, shut away in his den, sketching and writing in secret, and planning, always planning. Then, he would literally out of the blue call upon someone, someone he trusted. They would talk for long hours, leave in the morning, be gone for countless months, and then, Turgon would return alone. Unknown to Turgon, Ecthelion had made a secret pact with Egalmoth that should either of them be called upon next they would confer with the other on what the secret was and refuse to leave until able to sneak off to find the other. There were several dozen rumors, but nothing could be confirmed. “Turgon, I trust you, why can you not trust me?”

“It is not you I do not trust,” said Turgon. “In fact, I trust you greater than all others, Ecthelion. It is that trust that moves me to leave you in charge when I am away.” They stopped outside of Turgon’s residence. “I would have taken you there first, Ecthelion, but I need you here. Soon, we will all go there, all of us.”

“But where?” Ecthelion still wondered as Turgon opened his door.

The king turned around and looked several ways around them to be sure they were truly alone. Even then, he leaned in and spoke so softly that had Ecthelion not been prepared for it, he may not have heard. “Ondolindë,” was all he whispered before he disappeared within.


End file.
